


Something Unexpected

by ZionAngel



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Bondage, F/M, Femdom, Future Lucy, PWP, Time Travel Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 06:33:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14636070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZionAngel/pseuds/ZionAngel
Summary: Possible spoilers for 2x09 and 2x10, based on speculation of what might happen.After three days of absolute hell, Garcia Flynn feels like he needs to tear out of his own skin.  Fortunately for him, another Lucy from the future is there to help him unwind.





	Something Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> I suddenly find myself aboard the USS Garcy. Not sure how I got here. Don't particularly want to leave.
> 
> Some have speculated that in the season finale, we will see another Lucy come from the future back to 2018. My brain took the idea and ran with it.

Garcia Flynn feels like he needs to tear out of his own skin.

It has been three days of nonstop hell - danger and shootouts and time jumps and far too many close calls.  Ever since a new time machine, silver and silent and carrying another Lucy Preston - older, worn, but no less beautiful - appeared in the bunker, everything has been chaos.

Everything, except for a few precious hours that first night, when the older Lucy slipped into his room without knocking and closed the door behind her.  She had just stared at him, for so long, like she was expecting something from him. Like she wasn’t sure he was really real, and was afraid to find out. Finally he stood and approached her, ready to ask her what was wrong, or if she wanted to sit, talk, something.  But instead, she closed the gap between them in two long strides and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down into a messy, desperate, wonderful kiss.

She was all desperate passion, attacking his mouth, tugging his hair trying to merge her body with his.  After a few seconds his own buried passions, the desire for her that he had been fighting for so long, overwhelmed him.  He stopped trying to understand what was happening, and just let himself succumb to the feel of her skin against his.

She already knew how their bodies fit together.  She knew exactly where and how to touch him, and she had him halfway to a climax before they were fully undressed.  Somewhere along the way, she realized that she had him at an unfair disadvantage. She slowed down, guiding his hands along her body.  Her harsh whispers in his ear told him exactly how to touch her. She told him how hard and how fast to rub his fingers over her clit, adjusted their position so he could thrust into her at just the right angle, showed him where to nip her neck, showed him how to massage her breasts and tease her nipples until she let out the most beautiful sounds.

He never did get a full explanation from her, only bits and pieces and guesses - she and her Flynn were lovers, were in love, and somewhere along the way, she lost him.  Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered what Present Lucy, the one he had slowly been growing closer to over these past months, would think of all this. She might hate him if she knew.  Might slap him and warn him never to come near her again. She might scowl at him in disgust, and tell him to do whatever he wanted with the woman who wasn’t really her. As he drifted off to sleep with her warm skin against his, he even dared hope that Present Lucy would be jealous, and want him for herself.

That night had been perfect, the most whole and human he’d felt since he lost his family.  Everything else had been one life-or-death disaster after another.

For now, at least, things are calm and they're all safe.  But the knowledge isn’t enough to flush three days of adrenaline out of his system, or quiet the hyperactive instincts that have him starting at every little noise and reaching for his gun.  A very large quantity of alcohol might do the trick, or screaming or destroying something, but for right now, the only thing he has the strength for is silence and solitude.

When he reaches his door, he wrenches it open and slips inside as fast as he can, and slides the lock into place with a harsh clang.  He rests his head against the rough, cold metal, and tries to steady his breaths and slow his heart.

“Garcia.”

He jumps, even though the voice is low and soothing.  Future Lucy sits on the edge of his bed, waiting for him.  She smiles gently as she stands, giving him a chance to breathe before she continues.  He starts to relax, remembering the warmth and heat and taste of her skin, until he takes in the rest of the room.

His desk chair stands in the center of the small space.  Four lengths of white rope are tied to it, the long ends loose and waiting on the floor.  A long scrap of cloth hangs from her hand. A whole new tension creeps into his body, and his hands instinctively clench into fists.

“Take off all your clothes and sit down.”  Her voice is calm and even, and he has no idea what to make of this.

“What is this?” he demands, not moving.  Every muscle in his body vibrates, ready to run, or fight.  He shouldn’t be so afraid, so trepidatious - this Lucy would never hurt him, and this is obviously something sexual, but every alarm bell is screaming in his head, twenty years of special ops experience rebelling at the idea of being bound by anyone, even her.

“I know how hard the last few days have been for you,” she says, and part of him wants to follow that low, soothing voice wherever it wants to take him.  “I hate seeing you like this, and I want to help you. Now take off your clothes and sit down.”

He’s tempted to obey her, but his old instincts are loud and insistent.  He shakes his head, squaring off against her, but she seems ready for him, and speaks before he can.

“Garcia.”  She waits until he meets her eye.  “Do you trust me?”

He eyes her carefully for a long time, too long, it feels like.  But she waits, holding his gaze. Finally, he nods once, very slowly.  The smile she gives him is small, but soft, and loving. How can he say no to that?

“Good.  Strip, and sit.”

He obeys, starting with his sweater and the shirt beneath, then he kneels to unlace his boots.  He should feel aroused, should feel an uptick in his heartbeat and a familiar heat as his blood rushes to his groin.  But instead he only feels nausea and a vague sense of dread.

She runs her eyes over him appreciatively when he steps forward.  He has to force his limbs not to shake as he sits down. He hears her move behind him, sees fraying fabric for just a moment, and then everything goes dark, her sure fingers tying the blindfold at the back of his head.  He hears her kneel, and then feels soft fingertips deftly wrapping rope around his left arm.

“If you really can’t take take it, just tell me.”  She moves to his other arm, binding it to the edge of the chair.  “But otherwise, let me be in control.” He grits his teeth, the only response he can muster.  She moves in front of him, and quickly binds both ankles to the front legs of the chair.

He is hyper aware of everything, the slight brush of air as she moves behind him, the goosebumps on his arms, the pounding of his heart, the sweat breaking out at his hairline, how loud his breaths are in the tiny room.  None of this feels the least bit sexy - what the hell was the other Flynn into?

She rests her hands on his shoulders, and he feels the soft brush of her hair on his neck and chest as she leans around to kiss him.  He presses his lips into hers, desperate and looking for something to cling to, and he bites her lower lip just a little to hard. But she doesn’t complain, just smiles into the kiss, and moves her left hand down over his chest, pressing against his heartbeat.  She cradles his jaw and eases him out of the kiss, but she stays close enough that he can still share her breath.

“Just breathe.  Focus on my hand against your heartbeat.”

He does as she commands, willing the world to shrink to just the pounding of his heart against his ribcage.  She presses the softest of kisses along his jaw and up to his ear, so faint he can barely feel them at first.  Gradually the kisses become firmer, and she lets her free hand trace the muscles of his neck and back and shoulder and arm.  His heart slows gradually as she runs both hands down his chest, to his stomach and hips. It’s the feathery brush of her hair that holds his attention the most, until she rubs her thumb against his nipple and he nearly jumps out of his skin.

The sensation is like an electric shock, so intense and sudden, and he doesn’t know what to make of it.  She shushes him, whispers “ _ Breathe _ ” in his ear.  And then she does it again, slowly circling his nipple with the pad of her finger.  Some little part of him panics, rebels at being so vulnerable and feeling something so intense while he’s tied up and unable to do anything about it.  But it’s also the first time that he feels his cock twitch in all of this, and a rush of heat low in his belly. He sucks in a breath as she brings a finger up to to his other nipple, circling both in perfect rhythm.  In moments she has him as hard as a rock, despite the too-fast racing of his heart.

He has no idea how to process the situation, or these sensations, and it sweeps him away until he’s sure he’ll drown.

Finally her fingers slow to a stop, too suddenly, and for all the terrifying fire it stoked in him, he whimpers at the loss.

She steps around in front of him, one leg between his as she leans in close.  Her fingers climb up his scalp, and she tugs his head forward until his mouth finds her breast.  He’s so high strung he crushes into her, finding her nipple and biting, sucking just a little too hard.  But she doesn’t chide him for it, just gasps and and scrapes her nails over his scalp as an electric shudder runs through her.  She lets him lave at her soft flesh for a few precious moments before she eases him away. Before he can protest she kisses him, so tenderly, then kneels in front of him, pushing his legs further apart.

He’s still on edge, unsure, and she seems to sense it.  She runs her hands along the inside of his thighs and over the tense muscles of his abdomen, carefully denying him her touch where he needs it most.  She traces her fingers over the sharp ridge of his hips and down to lightly squeeze his butocks, and she’s so close he can feel the rush of her breath over his heated flesh.

The softness of her soothes him like a balm, slows his racing heart, and for the first time, he feels like this whole thing might actually be pleasurable.  Still, he longs to run his hand through her hair, tangle the strands around his fingers like an anchor, let the sensation comfort and ground him.

She lets her breath wash over him for a few wonderful, torturous moments until she finally,  _ finally _ , presses an open-mouthed kiss to the tip of his cock.  He lets out a deep, primal groan, pleasure and relief and desperation and hunger all in one.  She rubs a thumb soothingly over his inner thigh as she gradually takes him deeper and deeper into her mouth, her mouth sliding back and forth and going a little farther each time.  She draws it out torturously until finally he’s fully engulfed in the warm heat of her mouth, and her lips are wrapped around the very base of his cock.

His head falls back as she works him, mixing gentle suction with the clever ministrations of her tongue along the underside of his cock.  She runs her hands along his thighs and abs, mixing soft touches with light scrapes of her nails.

Something is building inside him, familiar yet somehow foreign, intense and too fast.  He tugs at his restraints, but her knots are too strong, and he strains hopelessly against the ropes.

“Lucy,” he growls, quickly growing desperate.

She hears him, but instead of taking pity on him, she doubles her efforts, moving faster.  She moves her hand to stroke the length of his cock, focusing the attentions of her tongue on the burning tip.

It’s so much, too much, and he loses the last barest grip of control he had left, and desperation overwhelms him.

But somehow, through the raging fire burning deep in his core, he suddenly realizes that’s exactly the point.  He’s supposed to lose control. She  _ wants _ him to lose control, here, with her.  He’s supposed to submit to her, let her hold his life and his very soul in the palm of her hand.  He’s her plaything to do with as she pleases, and the only thing he can do is surrender. He doesn’t know why, doesn’t understand what she’s thinking or what she’s going to do with him.  He doesn’t understand what he’s supposed to feel, what the point of this is. But still, he can do nothing but let her do whatever it is she plans to do.

He struggles against the restraints as the pleasure builds to a terrifying intensity, but he’s not trying to get out anymore - the tension is too much, and he needs an outlet.  He grips the edge of the chair with all his strength. And then, with no warning, it happens.

He feels a primal, animal sound tear from his throat, tearing his body apart.  He sees a blinding light behind his eyelids, and for a long, neverending moment, he can’t focus on anything at all, nothing but the pleasure and the feel of her tongue and lips dancing over the head of his cock, the pressure of her fingers stroking him, the sensation of his seed erupting over her tongue.

When it’s over, finally, he slumps down in the chair, completely spent, only the ropes keeping him upright.  He is broken, shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. Shattered by  _ her _ , by this godsend of a woman who has loved him since long before they met.

He’s vaguely aware of Lucy as she stands.  Slowly, as he comes back to himself, he realizes that all the tension, the fear, the anxiety, the sheer terror - it all broke when she broke him, and once free, it evaporated into nothingness.  All that’s left is the pleasure and the pieces and Lucy. Somewhere in his ragged, exhausted mind, it occurs to him that was the whole point, the whole reason she did this - to let those awful feelings out and free him.  He manages to wonder how she even knew to do it, and soon he realizes she must have done this before. He - the other Flynn that she knew and loved - let her do this to him - for him - before. She did it with such ease and surety, she must have done it dozens or hundreds of times before.

He is an absolute, utter wreck of a man.  But the burden of the last three days, and so much more, is gone.

She presses a soft kiss to his lips, and tugs the blindfold away.  He squints in the dull light, and eventually manages to focus on her face.  Her smile is so gentle, so full of love, and he feels her love surround him, piecing him back together.  He watches her as she unties the ropes. He is still completely helpless, but no longer because of the restraints.  No, it’s Lucy who makes him helpless, strong enough to tear him down, and loving enough to build him back up.

When his arms are free, he pulls her close and kisses her, trying to pour every bit of love he possesses into that one touch.

He barely feels his feet beneath him as she helps him stand.  He barely notices when she guides him to the bed and lays him down.  All he knows is the soft heat of her skin and the sweet smell of her hair as he falls into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
